


красный

by WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Abusive Parents, Animal Death, Gen, More trauma for Boris because I'm mean, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch/pseuds/WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch
Summary: I was the only living thing in the house again – maybe for miles. It used to be me and the stars and the dog. Now it was me and the stars.___Boris's father does something truly awful.





	красный

**Author's Note:**

> This is wholly inspired by Curlymcclain's post:  
"Why do you think Boris was so sure his dad would kill popchyk if he saw him? do you think that maybe, a year or so before, Boris was so achingly lonely he brought home a little stray to try and hide in his bedroom? do you think that maybe he grew to love it, it became his only friend in the world, and do you think-"
> 
> and in response, yes, yes I do think-
> 
> ___
> 
> This is just a short something I thought I should transfer from my notebook to my computer; I also thought I might like to share with you all! I am currently working on something a bit longer, but hopefully, this will do for now.

It was once blonde, shiny, and surprisingly clean. It was once dancing at my feet. It was once loving me and sleeping at the foot of my bed and watching the night sky and eating food out of my hand.

Now it was red. It was broken and twisted and panted and yapped no more.

Its chest was deflated where its ribs had been crushed. I couldn’t help but reach out to touch its motionless form. 

I was the only living thing in the house again – maybe for miles. It used to be me and the stars and the dog. Now it was me and the stars. Maybe they would burn themselves out too, soon. I read somewhere that all the stars are dead really and that we are just gazing up at their ghosts.

The white – no – red mass of curls was heavier now than it had been alive. I was shocked by the stickiness of the blood. My hands were damp with the stuff; the air smelled like iron and rot. 

I held the broken body close to my chest and swayed in time to a lullaby I had heard someone singing while cradling a dead – no – dying child. That memory hailed from ages ago, but it came to me as clearly as if that same bleary-eyed mother sat beside me this very moment.

Hair falling in my face as my head fell to my chest, I was grateful I could not see beyond the wall of my black curls.

“Nichto ne mozhet prichinit' tebe bol' bol'she. bol' v zhizni teper' proshla, shchenok..” 

I leaned forward to kiss its head, but the smell drove me away. I tried again, but the scent was overpowering.

I walked into the desert with the body. I returned alone.

That night my father and I ate dinner in the same room — a rarity – and I wanted to crush and grind up his ribs into a fine powder and sell it to some crack addict at school.

“Saves us money,“ he huffed between bites. 

“Sorry, sir?” I lifted my head and yet I was still too weak to meet his eyes. I watched him lift a shaky hand clutching a fork to his plate and I swore I could see blood under his nails.

“Buying food for that thing,“ he laughed and went back to his plate.

“I would’ve fed it my own dinner,” I did then lift my gaze toward his eyes.

“That dog was always noisy in the night anyway. I couldn’t get any sleep with it around.”

I fell silent, and forced myself to swallow the food—so tasteless to me I can’t even recall what it was I was putting in my mouth—to avoid for maybe a minute longer the inevitable fight. My rage would boil over at some point, and he would kick me. It was simply a matter of time. 

The sky really was full of ghosts that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Feeling sad and wanna feel sadder? Go listen to Karma Police, Boris's favorite song and probably what he would have listened to right after this :,)


End file.
